


she tells our story

by books_and_spite



Category: The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: Afterlife, Gen, Hamilton Lyrics, Hamilton References, Mentors, Meta, Post-Canon, Song: Who Lives Who Dies Who Tells Your Story, august sader gets ALL the respect, like. a lot of hamilton., nicola DESERVED BETTER
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26645665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/books_and_spite/pseuds/books_and_spite
Summary: This. This is her destiny.(The Storian is gone. Nicola takes its place.)
Relationships: Nicola & Agatha (The School for Good and Evil), Nicola (The School for Good and Evil) & August Sader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	she tells our story

**Author's Note:**

> this was really hard yet fun to write, i hope you like it!
> 
> at first this was supposed to have two parts, but i decided to keep it like this because (a) i'm not really into this concept and (b) it works pretty well by itself already! so, happy reading.

Magic screams.

You can hear it scream from miles away. You can hear it scream from the bottom of the Endless Sea, you can hear it scream from the highest point in the sky. You can hear it scream from the Beyond.

Three dead people hear it scream, from the Beyond. 

“Did you see this coming?”

“Remember the girl I wrote to you about? This is her legacy.”

“You’re not making sense.”

August Sader smiles at his best friends, Clarissa Dovey and Leonora Lesso, and says, “It will all make sense eventually.”

_ Who lives, who dies, who tells your story? _

_ She tells our story.  _

* * *

“Agatha?”

“Yes, Tedros?”

“My Storian ring is missing.”

* * *

“It’s gone.”

_ “What?” _

Tedros’ face is pale. “The Storian is  _ gone.” _

* * *

Panic ensues. Until Agatha tracks down her friends and drags them into a meeting.

They’re all sitting in the throne room of Camelot’s castle. Silent. Shocked. Because the Storian has been the foundation of the Woods for years upon years, it can’t just be gone like that-

“We stopped  _ needing  _ it _ ,” _ Nicola realizes. 

It’s not a good explanation, but it’s the only one she can think of. Everything is over. Everything is back to normal. The Lies of Lionsmane have been defeated. This is their Everafter, this is their Nevermore, they’ve brought back balance to the Woods.

But this is disconcerting all the same, sure, they might not need it, but without the Storian-

Chaos.

The Storian Rings kept the Storian alive. Whoever the rulers of the Woods swore loyalty to  _ would _ be the Storian. But now they have no leader. Nothing at all. 

“But- but our fairy tale is complete,” Agatha protests weakly. “We saw it through until the end, why did the Storian still disappear? Shouldn’t it tell more stories? The first years’. Yours, Nicola.”

The room is collectively staring at her now. With  _ pity.  _ She doesn’t need pity.

(She is going to put herself back in the narrative.)

(She  _ will.) _

“Magic follows emotion,” Nicola replies grimly. “The moment we started to believe that maybe we didn’t really need the Storian- it went away.”

“It can’t be,” Sophie says, “the Storian can’t just-”

“Well it has,” Nicola snarls back. “Deal with it!”

_ Breathe in. Breathe out. The fact that you’re alive is a miracle, Nicola. Don’t waste your time on stupid arguments.  _

“It’s gone and we can’t change that, so what are we going to  _ do _ about it?”

And then suddenly everyone starts screaming at everyone else. It’s too loud. This is not helping. 

Nicola covers her ears with her hands, and shouts, “Shut  _ up!” _

Incredibly, the room does shut up.

Nicola surveys the assembly. Agatha and Tedros, holding hands. Sophie and Hort. The Coven; Hester and Anadil, faces blank, and Dot, frowning. The seven who’ve been involved in this since their first year. 

And then there’s her. 

The upstart first year who somehow walked into their fairy tale, who got her heart broken by Hort and then liked Sophie and never told anyone, ever. The annoying one, the know-it-all, the girl who never learned how to shut her mouth. Nicola the Reader.

Well, this is as much  _ her  _ fairy tale as theirs. And if they can’t handle this, she will. Is she being too bossy? She honestly doesn’t care, because they’ve shoved her aside too many times already, their _ tale  _ has shoved her aside too many times already, and she will  _ not  _ stand for it!

“Before we do anything, we need details about what happened,” she orders, and Agatha nods shakily. 

“The professors and students were all evicted from the school,” she says. “The School itself is still there, but no one can get into it. According to our mirrorspells, it’s like a museum. Pristine. The storybooks, each and every one of them, are all gone. In Gavaldon too.” 

“We’re housing the students in the castle until we can figure things out,” Tedros adds, and Agatha leans against him tiredly.

“So. Something to do with the school. Something to do with Good and Evil,” Hester says stonily.

“The Storian was the foundation of Good and Evil,” Anadil offers.

“So when it was destroyed, Good and Evil were destroyed too,” Dot concludes.

Sophie frowns. “But Good and Evil have been the foundation of the Woods for hundreds of years. Everything is about Good and Evil.”

“Our identities,” Tedros says. 

Once again there is silence. No one knows what to do or what to say. 

And then Agatha shoots out of her seat and gasps, “The book, Professor Sader’s book, on the Storian-” She grabs Tedros’ hand and tugs him up with her. “If there’s anything that can help us, he will.”

Sophie scoffs, staying firmly in her seat. “Agatha, darling, you know Professor Sader isn’t all-knowing-”

“He knows more than we do,” Agatha fires back.

“Hester?” Sophie appeals. 

The Coven stand in unison, and Hester drawls, “I’d rather listen to Agatha than you, honestly, it’s like you lost all your character development.”

Nicola shrugs and stands herself. Hort stands too, and murmurs something in Sophie’s ear. After some grumbling, she finally joins them.

Agatha and Tedros lead them to the castle library. “I brought the book here after our tale,” Tedros explains, “actually, we have a lot of Professor Sader’s books, I guess… it felt safer.”

“I still don’t think-” Sophie starts.

_ “No one cares what you think,”  _ Hester bullies.

“He might have been a crackpot, but he’s saved us multiple times,” Anadil points out calmly, ice to Hester’s fire. 

“Shut up, we’re here,” Agatha intervenes.

They split to search the library, because it is  _ huge _ . They search for a while, before-

Agatha makes a triumphant noise as she pulls out the book from a shelf.  _ A Student’s History of the Storian, _ the thick cover reads in golden calligraphy.  _ August A. Sader.  _ Nicola can see respect and belief written all over Agatha’s face. She hasn’t ever met the professor, he died before she ever came to the Woods, but Agatha speaks so highly of him that she knows to respect him.

Agatha flips open the book, running fingers over the pages until the air is filled with voices, all overlapping, humming, blurring together-

“There’s nothing _ new,” _ she gasps.

“I told you so,” Sophie mutters.

“Let me try,” Nicola volunteers.

She grabs the book from Agatha’s hands-

-and then it starts glowing, brighter and brighter, burning her hands, until it’s almost blinding. In a panic, she tries to drop it.

“I can’t  _ let go!”  _ She gasps. 

Agatha is by her side, pressing a hand to her shoulder, talking frantically. “Nicola, stay calm. Focus. Find something.”

Nicola grips the pages so tightly it feels like they might tear, but now they’re turning on their own, flying to the heavy back cover in the blink of an eye.

A new swirl of silver dots appears on the last page, where there was once blank paper. On instinct, Nicola runs her fingers over them.

The book tears itself out of her hands as a silver phantom appears out of it, suspending in the air, and Nicola stumbles back, Agatha supporting her.

Professor August Sader is gazing down at them from his book, hazel eyes glittering like he knows some secret, maybe glittering with tears.

He smiles kindly, and says, “Well, Nicola of Woods Beyond, are you ready to tell our story?”

* * *

Pause.

The eight fairy tale heroes are stunned into silence. 

_ “What?” _ Nicola splutters. “I- what? Why?”

Professor Sader chuckles softly. “Why don’t you read on?”

“Professor Sader, you-” Agatha starts.

“I will always be watching over you, Agatha,” he says gently. Nicola looks away. This feels strangely personal. Sacred.

“Goodbye,” Agatha says, quietly. 

The phantom dissipates, his eyes glowing like stars before they fade away. 

* * *

“Well,” Dot says, “should we… see what he was talking about?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Agatha mutters. “Nicola?”

“On it,” Nicola replies, and looks at the book. “Um.” She grabs it from the air, and its pages turn again, only the back cover is splitting open, revealing a new page inside it, iridescent silver dots shining. She shrugs and touches them, and Professor Sader’s voice rings out through the air.

_ “Chapter Sixteen: The Storyteller,”  _ he narrates, and the book explodes into a gauzy diorama, like a painting, showing twin castles, standing tall and proud. The School for Good and Evil.

_ “Although, as stated in the previous chapters, the Storian and the people of the Woods must be in balance for the Woods to survive,”  _ he says,  _ “it was prophesied by the Three Seers that one day the balance would no longer be needed, we would no longer need the force to advance our world. That the Woods would finally break free, or be ripped away, from the influence of Good and Evil.” _

The misty picture zooms into a familiar silver tower. Three seers, circled around a table, appear, muttering over a pen- the Storian. Studying it. Words curl across the picture, in neat cursive- “ _ The Pen is Man’s True King”,  _ fading into,  _ “Someday the people of the Woods will be released.” _

_ “This fact was kept hidden, never to be revealed, for in those days there was still war over the meaning of the Storian’s carvings. Letting this out would only have resulted in more bloodshed. But the Sader line, my ancestors, were told, and they were told to protect the Woods. No matter what happened.” _

Slowly the scene fades away.  _ “So we let the war die.” _

The book glows, light rising from it and shifting into a Storian Ring, like the ring that Tedros wore until recently. It bursts into flames as they watch, entranced.  _ “But by the time you read this there will have been great upheaval. The Storian Rings will have been discovered. You will have faced Japeth and Rhian, and Good and Evil will have finally learned to work together. Like your old Deans, they have united,”  _ Professor Sader says.

Black and white swirl in the flame, until a dove-gray castle is formed from the soft light.  _ “Good and Evil are no longer needed. Things are no longer black and white. There are a thousand shades of gray, my students. Let there be a School for all those who are bold enough to get their stories. Let no one be frowned upon or rejected.” _

Professor Sader appears, then, standing in front of the castle.  _ “But you will need someone to tell your stories, won’t you? The Sader line agreed on this much. They called this mysterious figure the Storyteller, the Lorekeeper, the Writer of History.” _

Looking up, he continues.  _ “I will die for you. I will die, and I will bring this story to its close. I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory… but for this, it is worth it.” _

He pauses.  _ “I have been blessed with a gift of Sight more powerful than any of my ancestors. I have been working towards this for a long, long time. Let this conclusion of the great symphony of Good and Evil be my legacy. Let this be your legacy, Storyteller." _

He gazes at them, eyes bright as stars. No, Nicola realizes. He’s looking at  _ her.  _

_ “Rise up, rise up, it’s time to take your shot… Nicola of Woods Beyond.” _

And the gray castle fades to nothing, Professor Sader fading along with it.

“...did our dead professor just name Nicola the new Storian?” Hort asks disbelievingly.

_ “How am I supposed to do that?” _ Nicola half-screams. Then she remembers to turn the page. A last line of silver dots glitters there, and she presses her hand to them.

_ “My notes are in my office. Which, by the way, Hort of Bloodbrook, I expect you to have not completely destroyed,”  _ the Professor says dryly, his voice echoing.  _ “Find the butterfly emblem. It opens a compartment." _

“The butterfly emblem? I know where that is,” Hort volunteers. “It’s on the wall somewhere.”

“Well then,” Nicola says briskly, “let’s go.”

* * *

The eight of them venture to the School for Good and Evil. 

They step in front of the gates and everything shifts. The castles twist and merge, black and white blending into dove-gray, until a single castle stands in front of them. Just like Professor Sader said they would.

Everything is whirling, walls melting into each other, colours bleeding away-

And then it’s over.

It’s strange. Nicola can see remnants of the old Schools, an elegant spire here, a jagged tower there, but this is new and alien and exciting.

She’s smiling, she can feel herself smiling, she finally has a  _ purpose.  _

_ I won’t be invisible. I won’t be denied. _

_ It feels nice to have someone on my side. _

The gate opens obligingly.

“Ready?”

Nicola grins at Agatha. “Always.”

Agatha smiles back. “Lead the way, Storyteller.”

And she does. 

The routes are still familiar, really. The layout of the new School is still the same, it’s just- one castle. The floors are polished oak, the walls crisp white, no pink or blue in sight. They easily find their way to Hort’s office.

It’s a mess.

Hort, flushed red, mutters something about ignoring it and shuffles over to the far wall, brushing aside a pile of books to reveal a small blue butterfly. “It’s always been here,” he explains. “Guess now we know why.”

Nicola pushes past him and touches the emblem lightly. The wall around it folds away, revealing a door, revealing a whole  _ room, _ filled with stacks of papers covered in silver dots, books stowed in neat piles, so much  _ writing. _

“Wow,” Dot says. 

_ “Wow, _ ” Nicola breathes. 

“That’s a lot to figure out,” Tedros points out. “Do you need help?”

No, she doesn’t. This is what she’s meant to do. This is what she has always been meant to do. The  _ purpose  _ is running in her very soul, and she  _ knows  _ she is capable. 

“No,” Nicola says, confident. 

“Okay then,” he shrugs. “Shall we leave?”

“This is my office, you know,” Hort protests.

“And you’re a horrible teacher, and you’re not planning on coming back anyway, so let Nicola have it, she can be the professor,” Agatha snaps. 

“Me? Professor?” Nicola objects, just on principle. Then she thinks. Teaching people, educating them… it doesn’t sound so bad, really.

Maybe it is her destiny, after all.

_ Do what feels good. It’s time you felt good. _

Impulsive. She’s never been impulsive. Perhaps it’s time for her to change that. 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” she decides.

“Well, we’ll leave you to it,” Agatha concludes. “Have fun, Nicola. See you around.”

“See you, Agatha,” Nicola tells her friend. And then the rest of them are gone. The door swings shut behind them. 

She reaches for a piece of paper tacked to the wall, and the voice that’s already becoming familiar rings out, a phantom appearing in the air. 

Professor Sader is mumbling to himself. 

He looks terribly young, Nicola realises. Barely thirteen. Not even her age yet. How old was he when he started this? 

“ _ Stop wasting time on tears,”  _ he says. To himself, or to Nicola, she doesn’t know. 

Louder, “ _ My name is August Sader. I have another thirty years. It’s not enough. But, Nicola of Woods Beyond, you have the time. This is your destiny. From now on, history has its eyes on you. Promise! Promise me you’ll do it well!” _

His voice grows frantic near the end. What kind of burden must it be, Nicola wonders? What kind of burden did the Professor bear while he was alive? What kind of legacy will she have to bear?

She has to live up to it.

Nicola looks at him, even as the phantom wavers and flickers, a nervous, desperate young boy.

“I promise,” she says aloud. 

_ “Thank you,” _ he replies.

And then he’s gone, and Nicola is alone again, surrounded by history.

Surrounded by what is going to become her legacy.


End file.
